Compromised
by The Mandyfish
Summary: Self preservation; When the mind doesn't see the point in continuing to exist, but the basest parts of the body refuse to fold to such nonsense. Clint's fingers had clicked the button on his bow that would allow him to swing to safety from his arrow before he'd even registered the fact that he'd been thrown off the building. He couldn't help but feel a little bitter about that.


The sunset was beautiful of an afternoon in Budapest. If you had a chance to enjoy it, you should have. Clint leaned lazily across the balcony of the small landing of the apartment he was sharing with Natasha, directly across from the government official they were supposed to be protecting.

The only noise that indicated that Natasha was joining him was the small swish of fabric. She leaned over the balcony next to him.

"It's a bit different from last time we were here."

Clint nodded, "We're definitely breaking less things than last time."

Natasha smiled, it was the sort of smile that warmed Clint to his hard assassins heart, even though he'd rather die than admit it.

"You remember last time exactly the same as I do, don't you?"

Clint cocked his head, it wasn't the first time that Natasha had called bullshit on him, but she rarely called the same bullshit more than once.

"I remember fighting with you, as a team, as one unit, just like we do now. I remember realising that if I ever wanted someone by my side in a fight, it would be you. Or maybe I realised that when I made the call not to kill you. Who knows?"

"That sounds almost romantic Barton."

"I talk about killing you, and you say romantic, no wonder they call you the Black Widow"

A punch to the shoulder told him he'd hit his mark. He turned his head to study his co-worker, friend, lover. She was a lot of things to him depending on the circumstances. She looked back, her gaze steady.

"You know what I remember? I remember kissing you in the plane on the way back. Because you promised that if we got out of it alive you'd owe me one."

Clint smiled at the memory, "That was nearly four years ago Tasha, we've had a lot of kisses since then. I can think of a few cleaner, nicer ones than that one. You can keep watch for half an hour can't you? I'm gonna catch a shower."

Her response was a peck on the cheek before she turned to keep an eye on the apartment.

"Hey, we're working remember?" he said with a wink as he walked into their own small room. There was mumbled response that he chose not to listen to as he went about cleaning himself up.

* * *

Three days flew past. It was more like a holiday than a work assignment. All they had to do was follow the official around at a safe distance, and unless there was an immediate threat, just take in the view.

Clint found himself thinking over plans he would've scrapped upon first thought two or three years ago. He was surprised when Natasha only laughed at him when he voiced them over lunch at restaurant.

"We should get married Tasha."

There was a look of shock on her face, followed quickly by disbelief.

"We're secret agents Clint, secret agents don't get married."

"Why not?" he shrugged, "We're monogamous at the moment, and to be frank, I'd like to stay that way. I'm not interested in going after anyone else, and after four years, I'd like to make sure people know it."

Her original expression returned, Natasha 'hmmmed' around her fork. She swallowed, "Is this just a spontaneous thing, or have you actually thought this through?"

"Well, I've thought it through enough to tell you, so that's something."

"Yeah, well, it sounds like an alright plan."

The rest of the meal was eaten in a companionable silence, and when they left arm in arm, Clint couldn't quite keep the ghost of a smile off his face.

* * *

The day before they were due to leave, everything went to shit. For the first time in the five weeks they'd been in Budapest, the official had gone and gotten himself into trouble. It had taken all of two minutes for Natasha to race into the small living room, grab her guns and sprint out the door. Clint grabbed his bow and quiver and raced after her. When they reached the officials apartment they realised all too quickly that they were grossly outnumbered. Whatever organisation was after their man, they had a hell of an abduction team. Even with the local police coming to check out what all the shooting was about they still couldn't hold up against the stream of men that seemed to pop up from everywhere.

Clint found himself in an all too familiar position, back to back with Natasha, on a roof, surrounded. Always surrounded.

"You all right Clint?" she asked, never giving away any emotion. Calm in the face of danger.

"Yeah, you?" he heard his own voice distantly. His work voice.

"I'm going to try and get to that next building. Can you distract them and meet me at the bottom?"

Clint took in the group of men around them, mentally calculating the quickest way off the roof.

"Yep, you got it. See you down there in three, two…"

Natasha broke their barrier, as Clint slid forward between two of the men. He turned around to loose off one more arrow when he heard the gunshot.

He'd heard the phrase 'time has frozen' before, but never experienced it in context. He tried to yell but no sound came out. Three seconds was all it took. Three painful seconds where he watched what should have been a simple jump to the next building, turn into a trip, a stumble, right off the edge. He felt a foot make contact with his own shoulder but nothing else mattered but for the fact that Natasha Romanoff had just been compromised, and by extension, so had Clint Barton.

* * *

Clint's fingers had clicked the button on his bow that would allow him to swing to safety from his arrow before he'd even registered the fact that he'd been thrown off the building. He couldn't help but feel a little bitter about that.

The building itself wasn't that high, at least, it wasn't when you were abseiling down the side of it. As he reached the bottom, everything had a dreamlike quality to it, until he saw her body. Reality came screeching back in loudly. He could hear everything again, smell everything, even though none of it mattered. How could it matter, nothing should matter when his partner was lying lifeless and skewed on the ground.

Exactly when his tears started he wasn't sure. He noted that the police were moving in on the building, more of them than there were before, they must have got backup. He was on his knees now, beside her body. When he touched her hand it was still warm and a tsunami of unshared emotion flowed through him. He fumbled in his pockets, hoping. He pulled out the box he'd bought only that morning when they were out. He'd snuck off under the guise of going to the restroom, hoping she wouldn't figure it out.

The two gold rings sitting in the box looked meaningless now. They were simple; she would've appreciated them. Hers had a slight pattern engraved; his was a simple gold band. More tears welled in his eyes as he thought of her reactions. He could see it in his mind as clear as day. As he slid the ring onto her lifeless finger, he knew he'd have to tell Fury he'd been compromised for good. He kissed her hand softly before sliding his own ring on.

"You should've been doing that to me Tasha." He choked, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder.

"Sir, are you alright?"

The policeman's voice was loud and obnoxious compared to Clint's pain.

"We need to get back home." He replied simply.

"The corpse too?"

* * *

Clint had never been flown back to Shield Headquarters in handcuffs before, but there was a first time for everything.

As he sat in front of Fury there were no more tears. There was no time for that now.

"…_and I am truly, sorry for your loss Agent Barton."_

He made the decision on the plane, he was going to take up Tony's offer and live at Stark Tower for a while. Bruce was there, Steve popped in from time to time, and at the moment, they were the closest things to friends the archer had.

"…_but I need you to explain to me why there was a ring on Agent Romanoff's body. "_

Clint raised his hand, letting Fury take in the image of the matching ring. Realisation dawned on the mans face slowly, his mouth making a small 'o' of understanding.

"Sir, I've been compromised. I need to go."


End file.
